


If You're Not Asking, Then I'm Not Telling

by StoriesofmyLife



Category: Top Gun (1986)
Genre: Attraction, Boys In Love, DADT, Don't Ask Don't Tell, M/M, Navy Boys, Oral Fixation, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Build, Slow Burn, topgun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22013335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesofmyLife/pseuds/StoriesofmyLife
Summary: Maverick should be paying attention to lecture, he knows this, but he can't seem to stop staring at Ice chewing on his pen cap. It shouldn't be as distracting as it was, but it is and Maverick can't help but wonder what those lips feel like.Or-Maverick seems to notice Ice has a slight oral fixation and it takes a pen and other things to realize he might be a little bit more preoccupied with Ice than he originally thought.
Relationships: Nick "Goose" Bradshaw & Pete "Maverick" Mitchell, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky & Ron "Slider" Kerner, Tom "Iceman" Kazansky/Pete "Maverick" Mitchell
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	If You're Not Asking, Then I'm Not Telling

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm new to this particular fandom and this idea popped into my head when I was watching the movie for the first time in over ten years and I noticed Ice seems to have a thing for anything that brings attention to his mouth. I'm also pretty new to writing slash fics, so please be kind and any constructive criticism is welcome!

Maverick should be focusing on the lecture, really, he should be. He knows this and yet, he can’t seem to stop his eyes from straying to other side of the room, where a certain _ice cold, no mistakes_ pilot is dutifully taking notes. 

Which, okay, is completely normal. However, Maverick can’t help but notice, that in between notes, Ice likes to chew on his pen cap.

It shouldn’t be as distracting as it is, but Maverick can’t help but stare as perfect cupid-bow lips wrap around the tip of the pen cap, a flash of perfectly white teeth as they nibble of the cheap plastic. He’s without his favorite gold pen today and Maverick wonders where it’s at. Watching Ice twirl it effortlessly over his knuckles with nimble fingers is almost as distracting as watching his plush lips wrap around the tip of the pen. 

He watches the muscles in Ice’s chiseled jaw jump and twitch and Maverick swallows heavily, shifting in his seat, as his mind drifts to what else would make his jaw work that much. 

As if he can feel Maverick thinking about him, Ice turns and catches Maverick with his pants down (figuratively, at least). He smirks, those lips pulling back and showing his pearly white teeth that actually _glimmer,_ like he’s in some goddamn _Colgate_ commercial. The grin isn’t nice, it’s almost shark like in it’s arrogance and Maverick wishes that wasn't as hot as it was. 

The look in Iceman’s eyes is challenging and like the coward he is, Maverick looks away and begins sketching the crude angles Jester has drawn on the board in his notebook that’s been open on a blank page the entire lecture. 

The pretense of doing his work lasts all of ten seconds—a new record for him and he feels a little bit of pride in that, he won’t deny it—before his eyes flicker back to Ice and that _damn_ pen. 

His tanned cheeks are hollowed and his lips are pronounced around the tip of the pen and Maverick fights back a groan, when he replaces the pen with _other_ things his mind is only so eager to supply. 

He imagines brushing those lips with the tips of his fingers, feeling their softness stretch around his fingers, a warm, wet tongue wrapping around them, sucking them. A nibble of teeth, just to be a tease. Maverick bets he’d make a show of it, just to get under his skin. He’d be thorough in his prep, because if Ice is anything, he’s a stickler for rules and there’d be rules to follow before Maverick could slip those fingers into his body, to prep him for his cock. And to tease, because Maverick has a thing for getting under Ice’s skin, too.

Maverick imagines that mouth wrapping around his cock—those soft lips, the warm tongue flicking the underside vein, feeling the tantalizing brush ofteeth over the sensitive head, just the barest hint of danger to get Maverick’s blood heating. The way his jaw would twitch and strain with the effort, the tanned cheeks hollowing out as he took Maverick all the way down.

Ice meets his gaze and the knowing glint in those brown eyes makes Maverick flush—in both arousal and annoyance. 

The fucker was _teasing_ him.

And the smug grin that stretches across his lips only confirms Maverick’s thoughts. 

_Bastard_

The sound of chairs pushing across linoleum startles Maverick out of his day dreams and he feels Goose clap him on the shoulder as he stands. Maverick feels the heat in his cheeks and the tightness in his pants and he’s embarrassed and he can still feel that heavy gaze on him and Maverick just wants to _die._

He shoots Ice a glare when he walks past him and Ice just smiles, trying for innocent and it only annoys Maverick further.

~~~~~~~~~~

The O Club was packed since it was a Friday night and they didn’t have any classes until Monday. The music was loud and the bar was packed and Maverick had to fight to keep his spot next to Goose at the bar, where he was nursing a beer and watching Hollywood unsuccessfully try and hit on a woman. 

Goose was talking to Wolfman about the MiG and Maverick was glad Goose hadn't asked for his input, because Maverick hadn't even been paying attention to the conversation at all. His focus was across the bar, where Ice was sitting, sipping a vodka on the rocks and eating peanuts out of the bowl resting on the bar. 

He watched Ice’s dexterous fingers pick them out of the bowl and bring them to his parted lips and pop them into his mouth. One after another. Fingers to bowl, bowl to lips, where those calloused fingertips would brush against his lips briefly before he placed the peanut in his mouth. Maverick watched the muscles in his jaw twitch as he chewed them slowly, like he was savoring them. 

After five peanuts, he’d wash them down with vodka and Maverick’s mind flashed to the taste of those lips as he watched them wrap around the rim of the glass.

They’d be salty from the peanuts, the flavor smoothed with the sharpness from the vodka, which was no doubt top shelf. His lips would feel cold from the ice resting in his glass, but the initial coolness would eventually give way to warmth. Like ice melting. He’d ask for entrance by nipping Maverick’s bottom lip with those perfect teeth, brushing his cheeks with those fingers and stroking the inside of Maverick’s mouth with that talented tongue. 

Maverick is yanked out of his daze when someone bumps into him from behind, making his beer slip from his precarious grip and he manages to spill it all over himself and the bar. 

Muttering a curse, he ignores the slightly drunken apology and pushes his way through the crowd towards the bathrooms. 

It’s empty when he walks through the door and Maverick is thankful for a moment to himself. He grabs paper towels and tries to mop up the mess on his t-shirt and gives up after a few minutes, tossing the soiled paper towels in the trash, moving to the sink to wash his hands. 

The cool water feels good on his heated skin and he bends down, slapping the cold water over his heated cheeks, closing his eyes, enjoying the sensation. He takes a few deep breaths and reaches for a paper towel to dry his face and pauses when he looks down to see someone already offering him one. 

The blue stone of the Navy ring glints in the low lighting of the bathroom and Maverick feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he knows who it is without having to take his gaze off the hand. 

He takes it, careful to not let his wet hands brush dry skin and he wipes his face off carefully before he tosses the paper towel away and meets cool brown eyes in the mirror hanging above the skin. 

Maverick clears his throat, “Uh, thanks.”

“No problem, Mave _-rick,”_ Ice says and Maverick ignores the shiver that goes down his spine at the teasing lilt that Ice always adds to the syllable of his callsign. It’s usually mocking or annoyed, but Maverick finds it sexy every single time. 

The silence that settles over them isn't awkward, per say, but its charged with… _something,_ that Maverick isn't sure he’s ready to put a name to just yet. So he turns and makes a move to leave when his eyes zero in like a missile lock on Ice’s lips, which are wrapped around a tooth pick. 

It’s resting innocently in between his lips, leaving a small indent on his bottom lip and Maverick swallows heavily, adams apple bobbing harshly. 

Ice just stands there, watching him with a cool disinterest that’s just so _Ice,_ it drives Maverick up a wall, but there’s a glimmer in his eyes and it sets Maverick teeth on edge and arouses him at the same time, which only adds to his frustration. 

“Something wrong, Maverick?” Ice says, voice level and calm, breaking the silence between them like glass shattering. 

Maverick licks his suddenly dry lips and notes, with a small sense of satisfaction, that Ice’s eyes flicker down, tracking the movement, “Not at all, Kazansky. Just taking a moment to cool off, it’s getting a little hot out there.”

Ice doesn't reply and Maverick takes a chance, steps closer and the fact that Ice doesn't take a step back gives Maverick courage to continue, “In fact, I think I’m gonna head home, maybe take an _ice_ cold shower,” he adds, his voice low, “to help cool me off.”

Ice just watches him with that same cool look, but Maverick is close enough to see the muscles in his jaw twitch, hear the slight hitch in his breath and he gives Ice a smirk, feeling brave enough to reach up and pluck the toothpick from Ice’s lips—and if he takes a second to marvel at the softness of those lips, that’s his own business—and puts it between his own—making a show of gripping it between his teeth before letting his lips close around it. 

Again, Ice doesn't react visibly react, but Maverick see’s his pupils dilate, hears his breathing pick up, watches his lips part and he knows, he’s under Ice’s skin. 

Victory sings in Maverick’s veins and he steps an inch closer, feeling Ice’s body heat against his own, smells the sharp pine of his cologne and looks up at him through his lashes, “Thanks for the paper towel.”

He turns on his heel and walks out of the bathroom, grinning around the toothpick and heads out of the bar, towards his bike, not even bothering to tell Goose goodbye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Iceman—Mr. cool and calculating, _ice cold and no mistakes,_ hardcore, intimidating _—_ Kazansky, is sucking on a lollipop. 

A _lollipop_

It’s red and small and honestly something Maverick could finish in a bite, but Ice is taking his time, twirling it in his fingers, licking it with the tip of his pale pink tongue, before wrapping his lips around it and sucking, once, twice, popping it back out and repeating the process all over again. 

The candy has tinged his lips red, like he’s been kissing someone wearing red lipstick, darkening the already deep pink color of those pornstar lips. They’re a little swollen from sucking on the candy for so long—thirty-four minutes by Maverick’s count—and it’s conjuring up a lot of dirty things in Maverick’s mind. 

He’s sitting in the far side of the cafeteria with Slider and Sundown, leaning back casually in his chair and sucking on that damn piece of candy like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever had. Which, by Navy cafeteria food standards, that’s not exactly a close competition. 

Maverick is curious, where exactly someone could even _find_ candy on a Navy base. The image of a 6’2, frosted tip, muscular, cold and calculating Navy pilot walking into a candy store to peruse the aisles to find mini lollipops just doesn't seem like a likely scenario. Although the sight of it does bring an amused twitch to Maverick’s lips. 

But then Maverick watches as Ice’s eyes flutter shut as he brings the lollipop between his lip and _sucks,_ hallowing his cheeks and _everything,_ makes any amusement fade from his body. 

He looks so into it, is the thing. The flavor, the taste, the texture of it, all of it and it makes Maverick groan into his watery mashed potatoes at the unfairness of it all. 

Ever since the incident in the bathroom Friday night, Ice had made a conscious effort to not have anything phallic looking near his mouth and Maverick wondered if maybe he’d pushed it too far, misinterpreted their… _whatever_ that was in the bathroom as flirting and he’d pushed Ice too far, made him too uncomfortable to continue the obvious habits in order to save himself from a repeat of the other night. 

That lasted until today, Wednesday, when Maverick walked into the cafeteria to see Iceman sucking on what should be an innocent piece of candy, but the way Ice made it look, it was anything _but._

Goose brought him out of his thoughts by picking up his tray and reminding Maverick they’d had to be at the hangar in fifteen minutes for their afternoon hop with Viper. 

Maverick followed Goose to the trash, dumping his tray and as he made his way to the exit, he glanced over his shoulder to see Ice smirking at him around his little treat, shooting him a wink before he turned back to his conversation. 

_This was hell and Tom “Iceman” Kazansky was the actual devil himself,_ Maverick thought to himself, shaking his head as he made his way to the locker-room and tried to pay attention to what Goose was talking about.

All he could think about during the hop was Ice’s mouth wrapped around that lollipop stick and Viper had them in a missile lock in under ten minutes. Goose knew something was wrong, but seeing the stormy look in Maverick’s eyes when he ripped his flight gear off left him silent at Maverick’s side as they headed into the locker room. 

He tossed his stuff in his locker and slammed the door shut, heading into the showers. He wasn’t sure how long he stayed under the warm spray, but by the time he turned the water off, no one was left in the locker-room and he wrapped the towel around his waist, shaking the water out of his wet hair. 

When he rounded the corner, he came face to face with Ice, who was still in his flight gear and his lips wrapped around _another_ lollipop. Maverick wondered if it was the same one from earlier or if he had an endless stash somewhere and his sole purpose was to slowly send Maverick off the edge of a cliff towards insanity with them. 

“Mave- _rick,”_ Ice said, giving him a slow grin, teeth glimmering, lips still stained red, “heard you didn’t do so hot today, what happened?”

He stood there, rolling that damn lollipop around in his mouth and Maverick, with high level of annoyance, wondered how someone could still look so self-assured and… _cool_ with a piece of candy reserved for children dangling from their mouth. The task should've been impossible, but Ice pulled it off. 

_Smug asshole_

Anger curled under Maverick’s rib cage and he could feel his cheeks flush with it and he resisted the urge to punch the smug look right off of Ice’s face. Instead, he just shrugged, “Rough day,” he tried for nonchalance, but judging by the look of all knowing on Ice’s face, he didn’t succeed. 

“Be careful, Maverick,” Ice said, voice low, eyes dancing, “anymore rough days and you’re basically going to hand me that plaque on a silver platter.”

He was so close Maverick could smell the cherry from the lollipop on his breath and it made something stir deep in his belly, but he pushed it aside, giving Ice a smirk, “Be careful, Iceman,” Maverick replied, his tone mocking Ice’s, “keep saying things like that and people might think you care about me.”

Ice grinned down at him, twirling his lollipop stick in his hands, his gaze trailing down Maverick’s wet skin on display, “And we wouldn't want that, now would we?” he murmured, his gaze lingering on Maverick’s lips before he flicks those brown eyes back to Maverick’s. 

“To let the rest of the world know that the Iceman actually has a heart?” Maverick replies, “we wouldn't that kind of classified information getting out, do we?”

Ice chuckled, the sound low and throaty and it made Maverick’s head spin in the best way, “We can’t give away all my secrets, can we?”

He pulled the lollipop from his mouth and Maverick swallowed at heavily at the sheen it left behind on his cherry red lips. Iceman noticed, of course, and his shark like grin only widened. 

“What about you, Mave- _rick?_ ” Ice murmured, his voice low and it rumbled through his chest, “do you have any secrets?”

His intense gaze never left Maverick’s face and his lips went from a cocky grin to an all knowing smirk. His question was loaded and it was the closest they got to ever acknowledging this… _tension_ between them and Maverick wasn't surprised that Ice would be the first to bring it up. 

He knows he has two choices and if Maverick knew better, he would've thought Ice was giving him an easy out. To laugh it off and pretend like the last week hadn't happened and blame it on too much testosterone and no outlet for it. Or he can continue with this game they have going and up the ante. 

But Ice isn't giving him an out, he’s challenging Maverick and Maverick is _never_ one for backing down from a challenge. 

So he ups the ante by dipping his head down and wrapping his lips around Ice’s lollipop he’s still grasping between his fingers and hums in appreciation when the flavor—cherry that’s almost too sweet and _Ice,_ cool, crisp, like winter—meets his tongue. His lips brush the skin of Ice’s fingers and he looks up at him from underneath his lashes as he swirls his tongue around the sucker and has to refrain from smirking in satisfaction at the look of pure _want_ in Ice’s gaze. 

There’s a fire brimming in those brown depths and Maverick finds some irony in the fact that Iceman is all cool and calm on the outside, but made of heat and fire on the inside. 

He tugs gently on the lollipop and Ice let’s him have it, dropping his hand and Maverick pulls away, rolling it around in his mouth before he takes it out with an over exaggerated _pop,_ that has Ice’s jaw twitching in a way that makes Maverick want to tease it with his teeth. 

He levels Ice with a heated stare of his own, letting a sexy smile tease at his lips and replies, “I guess we’ll just have to see what kind of… _secrets_ I may have up my sleeve,” He pops the lollipop back in his mouth with a pleased hum, leaving Ice with that, heading to his locker and tugs his clothes on, putting on a bit of show as he feels Ice’s heavy gaze on him. 

He doesn't bother looking back as he makes his way out of the locker-room to the parking lot where his bike is waiting for him. It’s not until he’s safely on his bike and speeding down the highway that he realizes any lingering anger he had going into the locker-room over his failures today during the hop, left him the minute his eyes landed on Ice. 

He’s still not sure what that means. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow, Goose manages to rope him into playing a game of volleyball the next day, with some of the other guys in their class and Maverick only agrees because a part of him feels guilty for the way he’s been acting the last few days. 

And Goose, being Goose, plays this up by giving him a ridiculous pout, “C’mon, Mav, we haven’t spent much time together the last week or so and I miss my best friend.”

Maverick had caved after not even five minutes and he followed Goose’s truck on his bike to the far side of the base, where a bunch of the other guys had already congregated on the bleachers that surrounded a wide patch of sand where a volleyball net was located in the center. 

A game was already going on by the time they got there—Hollywood and Wolfman were getting their asses handed to them by Slider and Iceman Kazansky, who looked up when heard the revving of the bike engine and shot Maverick a sly, slow smirk that went straight to Maverick’s cock. 

With a small groan, he parked his bike next to Goose and took a moment to center himself, jumping when Goose slapped him on the back, “Let’s go show ‘em how it’s done.”

Forcing a grin on to his lips, he followed Goose to the bleachers, sitting down on an empty row to wait out the end of the game. He nodded to some of the guys before he found his gaze wandering back to Ice, who was twirling the volleyball on his finger while he waited for Hollywood and Wolf to get reset before he served the ball. 

Maverick felt his mouth go dry as he watched the muscles ripple underneath the taught, tan skin as Ice jumped up and smacked the ball over the net, landing gracefully on his feet and getting into position for the return. 

Maverick was thankful for his aviators covering his eyes, because his gaze never left Ice and his ridiculous muscles and tan skin.

Ice was good, was the thing. Like everything else, he attacked the game with a technical prowess and control that spoke of years of practice—his eyes were focused and assessing as he watched Hollywood and Wolf work the ball back over the net, angling his body wherever the ball went and never letting his eyes stray from it. He and Slider moved with practice ease and silent communication, their bodies always aware of the other and Maverick found himself wondering if that was just a pilot and RIO thing or… _something_ else.

Maverick swallowed back the jealousy that rose in his gut at the thought. he tried to reassure himself that they’d been flying together for years and that kind of thing often easily translated on the ground, too. Hell, he and Goose often found themselves finishing each other sentences and sometimes, they were able to hold a silent conversation with just looks and nods. Carole always jokes that Maverick is more married to Goose than she was. But when you spent so much time with each other, it was bound to happen. He and Goose learned to rely on each other, because if they didn’t, they would never make it back to the ground. 

And Maverick wondered, not for the first time, if he and Ice would ever be able to…be anything other than _whatever_ they were. If they were to…progress outside of flirting and actually attempt… _something_ , would they ever be able to trust each other the way they both could easily trust their flying partners?

Ice had already told Maverick on the second day of them meeting that he didn’t trust him because he was dangerous. It wasn’t the first time he’d ever been called that in his career, far from it. But Maverick suddenly found himself wondering if he could ever trust Ice that way. 

Ice played by the rules and by Maverick’s standards, that meant playing it _too_ safe. He’d never take unnecessary risks or challenges and on paper, that made him a good pilot, especially to the Navy. He went in, did his job, got out and didn’t push the envelop with unorthodox tricks and maneuvers that made other people nervous. 

And it made him wonder, as he watched Ice take a particularly sharp dive to save the ball, if he and Ice would ever be able to find common ground. They were both so different from each other—Ice, always cool and calm and collected, never a hair out of place or a wrinkle in his uniform and he always played by the rules. And then there was Maverick—wild and hotheaded, flying by the seat of his pants, running off his emotions and a penchant for breaking the rules. 

But then his mind drifted to those glances, the flirting and the knowing looks and Maverick found himself wondering if he was the exception to Ice’s easily constructed world he lived in. Maverick was a loose cannon, unpredictable, and Ice didn’t trust him in the air. And he wondered if this.. _thing_ was Ice taking a chance for a change. 

The thought made Maverick smile involuntarily. 

Someone snapping their gum next to him made Maverick jump and he glanced to his left, where he saw Ice standing there, twirling the ball on his finger—which did _not_ bring Maverick’s attention to just how long those fingers were—and watching Maverick with a small smirk on his face. 

“You up for a game, Mave- _rick?_ ” He asked, his voice smooth and not at all innocent in his query. He blew a bubble with his gum, popping it with his teeth and licking the strands it left behind on his lips and Maverick swallowed. 

“What kind of game, Kazansky?” Maverick asked in return, once again thankful for the mirrored lenses hiding his eyes, which were entranced with the way Ice’s jaw flexed and twitched as he chewed his gum. 

_Wintermint_

It made Maverick’s mind go into a flat spin. 

Ice shrugged, his gaze going back to the ball, where it was still spinning on his pointer finger and he let it dance, still spinning, across his other fingers and Maverick rolled his eyes behind his glasses. 

_Show off_

“That depends,” Ice said, turning his gaze back to Maverick, his hazel dancing like the ball was, “we can play two on two—Slider and I against you and Goose or,” he let his voice drop to a low rumble, “we can play one on one, if you’re feeling brave.”

There was a challenge in his eyes and Maverick felt his heart rate pick up in his chest, thundering against his rib cage. Ice was taking the shot and Maverick was more than ready to be the target. 

He opened his mouth to reply when a tanned arm wrapped around Ice’s shoulder. Slider shot Maverick a cocky grin, “Ready to see if your luck has ran out, Maverick?”

Maverick could see Ice slipping back into his _ice cold, no mistakes_ persona, his eyes going back to the impassive and cool stare he always wore and with it, Maverick’s window of opportunity was quickly closing. 

Throwing caution to the wind, as he tended to do, he didn’t get this far in life by living consciously, he said, keeping his voice cool and his mirrored gaze on Ice, “I don’t know, I have a feeling I’m gonna get pretty _lucky_ today.”

Slider rolled his eyes, taking his arm from Ice’s shoulder and he walked over their side of the net, but Ice lingered, chewing his gum and giving Maverick an appraising look, “You sound confident.”

Maverick just smirked, kicking his boots off, sliding his jacket off his shoulders. He stood up from his spot, whipping his shirt off as he went and tossed it unceremoniously on his jacket, feeling heat curl in lower belly as he felt Ice’s heavy gaze on him the whole time. 

His bare shoulder brushed against Ice’s as he stepped off the bleachers and he barely suppressed a shiver at the sensation. His eyes met Ice’s to find him still watching him with an odd look on his face. 

“If you’re still up for that one on one game later,” Maverick began, licking his lower lip suggestively and he grinned when he saw Ice’s adams apple bob heavily, his jaw twitching, “Goose will be gone tonight, his wife is coming to visit and he’s staying off base, so I’ll be home alone and I might be up for a game or two.”

He slipped his sunglasses down his nose so Ice could see the seriousness of his offer and when warm hazel met his, Maverick knew his message had been received. 

Maverick grinned, taking the ball out Ice’s hand and started towards Goose, who was watching him with an all too knowing look on his face and Maverick just offered him a grin. 

When he didn’t hear footsteps behind him, he looked over his shoulder to see Ice still watching him or more _specifically_ , Maverick noticed with a tiny thrill up his spine, his ass. 

“You coming, Kazansky?” Maverick asked with a smirk. 

Maverick wasn't sure if it was the sun or a trick of the light, but he was pretty sure Iceman was blushing. He shot Maverick a glare as he walked past him to huddle with an impatient Slider, who was oblivious to the situation.

Goose gave Maverick a smirk, “Iceman, huh?” he asked, keeping his voice low. 

Maverick shrugged, his cheeks heating and he blamed it on the late afternoon sun and Goose just slapped his shoulder with a laugh, “Don’t worry man, I’m not asking.”

Maverick gave him a small, thankful smile, “Then I’m definitely not telling.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Maverick wasn't nervous. 

He _wasn’t._

He was just…anxious, in the best way possible. Like the night before a mission or the moments leading up to it—stomach in knots, heart racing, blood rushing and call him crazy, but Maverick _loved_ that feeling. The feeling of the unknown and unpredictable is a shot of adrenalin to his system, get’s his blood rushing to the point feeling high. It’s what he chases every time he’s in the air—pushing himself and his plane to it’s limits and while sometimes it doesn't always work out for him, he knows that victory outweighs loss and that’s what he keeps himself focused on as he rode home on his bike. 

He knew he had a few hours, at the least, until he found out if Ice was going to take him up on his offer, but that didn’t stop him from running around the tiny house assignment he and Goose shared, cleaning up the empty beer bottles that were scattered around the living room, throwing away the empty take out boxes and chip bags. Or do a quick scan of his room, deciding it was as clean as it should be—he didn’t want to be _too_ obvious and he also didn’t want to go through all of this for nothing if Ice didn’t show up. 

Maverick decided to take a shower, hoping that would take some of the edge off and soothe some of the anxiousness that was battling with the arousal in his lower belly. When he hopped under the warm spray, he immediately felt his muscles relax and he titled his head back, just letting the water soak his hair, rising out the sweat and the sand and he just took a moment to breathe. His thoughts drifted to Ice and he immediately felt himself flush as he remembered how he looked on the volleyball court—muscles rippling, skin tan and gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat. The look of pure concentration on his face as his eyes tracked the ball, the way he licked the tips of his fingers before every serve, the smirk that lit up his chiseled face every time he managed to get Maverick and Goose dive for it, only to come up empty. 

He felt himself getting hard at the thought and with a groan, he slid his wet and soapy hands down his body, gripping his cock loosely in his grip as his mind flitted through the last week and a half of flirting and teasing. The red stained lips from that fucking lollipop, those lips wrapped around the pen cap, his cheeks hollowed out around the tip, the flash of teeth against the plastic. 

He began to stroke himself as he pictured Ice, fresh from a hop, his blonde hair darkened a few shades from sweat, the flush high in his cheek bones, hazel eyes sparkling with triumph. Those were his favorite moments—seeing him in the locker room as he regaled the other’s with their hop stories, the arrogant smirk dancing on his lips, the way his eyes still held that dazed look from a long day of flying, like he was still up there, in the cockpit, gliding through the clouds.

The way the pitch of his voice lowers when he’s teasing Maverick, the way he looks him like he's got him all figured out, but there’s a burning curiosity there to understand. He looks at Maverick sometimes like he’s a difficult flight plan and he’s trying to figure out the best way to break it down so he can understand it. 

_Wanna play a game, Mave-rick?_

Maverick groaned, imagining that lilting voice whispering that in his ear, replacing his hand with Ice’s strong calloused ones in his mind, those hazel eyes locked on his like he was an enemy MiG and he had Maverick in his sights. The concentration, the heat and the smirk that lights up his face when he feels the way Maverick’s cock leaks into his hand. 

_Is that your secret, Mave-rick?_ He’d whisper to him, brushing his lips against the shell of his ear, biting it gently, _you want me to touch your cock? Hmm? Maybe get down on my knees and take you into my mouth? Would you like that?_

_Fuck yes,_ Maverick would pant, bucking into his firm grasp and Ice would chuckle, a low rumbling sound in his chest that sent shivers down Maverick’s spine. 

_Mmmm, greedy,_ Ice would murmur back, _you just want everything, don’t you?_

Maverick would nod hastily, feeling himself getting closer with each stroke, every dirty whisper, _Everything you want to give me, I want it._

Ice would smile, a genuine smile and it’s so beautiful that it makes Maverick’s chest ache in the best way and say, _Such a good answer, baby, I think I’ll let you come just because of that._

He’d swipe the head of his cock with the tip of his thumb and stroke the underside vein with his forefinger and groan, _Come for me, Mave-rick._

With a loud shout, Maverick came all over his stomach and shower wall, his body quaking with the force of it and he leaned his head against the wall for support, chest heaving with pants. 

His body was on fire, his mind was racing and it took him a minute to get back to himself and when he did, he washed his body thoroughly and cleaned up the shower. He gave himself a few more minutes in the shower before he turned the water off, wrapping a towel around his waist and padding into his small bedroom to dig through the dressers for something to wear. 

He settled on a pair of sweats and nothing else, feeling the heat of the late afternoon sun through his windows and he was still warm from his shower and… _other_ things. 

Maverick walked into the living room and dug through his records to find one he wanted to listen to, not used to the silence in the house without Goose around to talk to. When finally decided on one, he put it on the record player and dropped the needle, turning the volume up and he headed into the kitchen to find something to eat. 

He made a conscious effort to ignore the clock on the wall and dug through the fridge to see what they had, which wasn't much, but he managed to scrounge together meat and vegetables and checking the cabinet, he found rice and decided to make stir-fry.

He decided to make extra, in case he happened to get a visitor and he immersed himself in the music and cooking, singing along to the familiar words of Otis Redding and he felt himself settle into something that resembled a calm, all his pent up energy he had when he burst through door, melting away the more he swayed to the music and cooked. 

He was so lost in the music, he didn’t hear the knock on the door or the footsteps on the linoleum floors of the kitchen, but he felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and he felt his body flush. He knew who it was without having turn and he marveled for a minute at only knowing Ice for two weeks and his body was already so attuned to him. 

He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see Ice, dressed down in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, bare feet, leaning against the archway into the kitchen, watching him with clear hazel eyes. His eyes met Mavericks and he gave him a slow smile, “Mave- _rick,”_ He murmured in greeting, eyes sliding down Maverick’s shirtless form and the lowriding sweatpants. 

Maverick swallowed, feeling his belly heat with arousal, “Kazansky.” he murmured back, before he turned back to the simmering stir-fry on the stove. 

_These arms of mine_

_They are lonely and feelin’ blue_

Otis crooned from the record player and hands rested gently, but firmly on his bare hips and Maverick just barely stopped himself from jumping. Warm breath brushed the back of his neck and he shivered, “Are you cooking for me, Mave- _rick?”_ Ice whispered, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief and it made Maverick’s cheeks flush. 

Maverick swallowed heavily, “I wasn’t sure if you’d be hungry, so I made extra.” He said, cursing himself for the breathiness of his voice. 

He felt Ice’s lips pull into a smirk, “Mmm, how sweet of you,” He whispered, brushing a kiss against the back of Maverick’s neck and Maverick’s heart was racing, beating so loud he wondered if Ice could hear it, too. 

_These arms of mine,_

_They are yearning,_

_Yearning from wanting you,_

Ice’s lips slid down his neck, warm and soft, until they reached the shell of his ear, “Too bad I’m hungry for something else.” he murmured, voice low and dangerous and those hands—those strong, capable and calloused hands, slid to the front of Maverick’s sweats, dipping teasingly below the waistband, his finger’s brushing the skin just above his cock, just as his teeth bit the soft skin of his earlobe.

Maverick had just enough sense to push the pan of the burner and switch it off before he rounded on Ice, pushing him against the counter and attacked his lips hungrily. Ice kissed him back just as forcefully, his hands sliding into Maverick’s hair and gripping it tightly in his grasp, pulling a moan from Maverick’s throat. 

_These arms of mine,_

_They are burning,_

_Burning from wanting you,_

It was all teeth and tongue and heat and fire and nothing what Maverick thought it would be like to kiss _the_ Iceman. His lips were soft and warm and demanding against Maverick’s and he fought for control and Maverick found himself surrendering to it. He let Ice angle his head the way he wanted it, moaned when his teeth tugged gently on his lower lip, soothing it with a brush of his tongue and Maverick opened his mouth, letting Ice in and their tongues tangled and danced and Maverick lost himself in the sensation. 

_These arms of mine,_

_They are wanting,_

_Wanting to hold you,_

His chest burned with arousal and lack of oxygen and his head was spinning, but he pulled Ice closer, wanting _more more more_. He pressed his body to Ice’s and he shouldn't find it as hot as he did when Ice flipped their positions and picked Maverick up smoothly and set him on the counter top, so they were eye level with each other. 

He wrapped his legs around Ice’s waist and tugged him closer, parting his lips on a moan when he felt Ice’s erection brush against his. 

Ice’s gaze on Maverick was pure heat and _want,_ his pupils blown wide and almost eclipsed the hazel irises, lips swollen and bruised from the intensity of their kisses and it made Maverick’s cock twitch in his sweats. Maverick was sure he looked just as crazed as Ice did and he found that he didn’t care. He wanted this and Maverick always got what he wanted. 

_C’mon, c’mon baby,_

_Just be my lover,_

He pulled Ice back to him and he met him half way, their lips meetingagain, this time, gentle and explorative and Maverick tangled his hands into Ice’s blonde locks, scratching his fingers against his scalp and that pulled a groan from Ice’s mouth and Maverick shivered and Ice pulled him closer. 

Ice’s hands slid down Maverick’s glistening skin, brushing across his shoulders, down his sides, slipping his thumbs into the back of Maverick’s sweats and Maverick whimpered when those hands gripped his ass. Ice pulled him off the counter and his lips never leaving Maverick’s, he walked them into the living room and laid him out on the floor, blanketing Maverick’s body with his own. 

_I need somebody,_

_Somebody to treat me right,_

Their clothed cocks brushed and they both pulled away at the same time and groaned. Maverick bucked his hips up, chasing the friction and Ice pushed away from him with a gentle hand resting on his chest. 

Ice sat back on his heels to yank his shirt over his head, dog-tags jiggling before the rested between his pecs and Maverick licked his lips at the bare skin on display. 

Ice’s gaze never left Maverick’s as his hands went to his belt and Maverick sat up, batting his hands away. 

“Let me,” Maverick breathed, placing a kiss to Ice’s chest, as his hands tangled with the buckle of his belt, letting his finger tease the outline of his cock, grinning when he heard the sharp inhale above him. 

_I need your tender lips,_

_To hold, hold me,_

When he got the belt out of the way, he snapped the button loose with a flick of his wrist and immediately slid his hands down the front, feeling the hot skin against his fingertips and he gripped Ice through his briefs. Ice muttered a curse, bucking into his hand and Maverick met his eyes with a smirk dancing on his lips and Ice stared right back, eyes wide and wanting. 

With a growl, Ice pushed him back down onto the soft carpet, lips going to Maverick’s neck and his hand sliding down Maverick’s sweats, shoving them down his hips and Maverick raised them, letting Ice rip them off his body, leaving him bare and exposed. 

Ice’s eyes slid down his chest, to his cock laying hard and leaking against his taught stomach, before they wandered down his thighs, to his shins, to his feet and back again, just as slowly. 

Maverick shifted restlessly underneath his heated stare, feeling himself flush all over from the intensity of it all. 

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Ice murmured, his low and dripping with lust, sliding his hands up Maverick’s thighs, leaning down and kissing at Maverick’s throat, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to lay you out like this, Mave _rick.”_

Maverick canted his hips, “Ice, please,” he whispered and he could hear the desperation in his own voice.

Ice only smirked at him, brushing his fingers teasingly against the sensitive skin of his thighs, “What do you want, Mav? Hmm?” 

He brushed his lips against his pulse point, biting down with his teeth, running his hands teasingly over his balls, “Do you want my hands?” he demonstrated by gripping Maverick in his hand loosely, stroking from root to tip and Maverick closed his eyes and moaned. 

“Or do you want my mouth?” Ice murmured in his ear, breath warm, biting his earlobe and Maverick whimpered at the thought, “that’s really what you want, isn't it? My lips wrapped around your cock, sucking you until you come down my throat,” Ice continued, his voice dripping with promise and Maverick squirmed under him, “That’s what you thought about all this week, isn't it? Me on my knees for you, my mouth on your cock.”

“I thought about it, too, you know,” Ice admitted, eyes drifting to Maverick’s dick that was still in his loose grip, “what you’d taste like, the sounds you’d make, mmm,” he met Maverick’s gaze with a grin that wasn't nice and full of danger and Maverick felt his blood heat, “I want you to ask me nicely, Maverick.”

Maverick swallowed heavily, adams apple bobbing and he choked on a moan when Ice squeezed him, “Please, Ice I want—“ he cut himself off with a flush, bucking his hips and Ice tutted. 

“What do you want, Maverick? C’mon, baby,” Ice whispered, eyes lidded and Maverick swallowed and looked him directly in the eyes. 

“I want you to suck my sock, Lieutenant.” Maverick said, purposely pitching his voice to sound breathy and Ice’s gaze burned even hotter. 

“As you wish,” Ice said, smirking as he slid down his body and Maverick couldn't keep his gaze off of him if he tried. 

Ice tightened his grip around Maverick’s leaking cock and keeping his gaze on Maverick’s, he lowered his mouth, flicking his tongue against the tip before he swallowed him down in one go and Maverick threw his head back and cursed. 

Ice hollowed his cheeks and sucked, his tongue flicking against the underside vein and Maverick saw stars, bucking into his mouth and Ice’s arm braced against his hips to hold him down. 

He built up a quick rhythm that had Maverick moaning every breath and his head spinning like he was in a flat spin going over eight hundred knots. He gripped Ice’s hair and grunted in pleasure when Ice kitten licked the head on the upstroke before he sunk back down. 

“Fuck yes,” Maverick muttered, opening his eyes to meet Ice’s molten ones and Maverick thought he’d burn up with their heat, “Ice, so good, fuck—“

Ice smirked around his cock, quickening his speed, his other hand snaking between his thighs to fondle his balls and Maverick could feel the muscles in his belly tighten and he tugged Ice’s hair to let him know, but the stubborn fucker stayed right where he was, that intense stare Maverick had seen so many times burning in his eyes and the gentle scrape of his teeth against the tip of Maverick’s cock had his vision whiting out as he came, a breathless pant of Ice’s name leaving his lips as his body shook through his orgasm. 

Ice sucked every drop, letting Maverick ride out the waves of his orgasm until he felt the shocking sensitivity take it’s place. Maverick tugged his hair gently and Ice got the message, pulling away and wiping his mouth, his eyes never leaving Maverick. 

He slid up his body, kissing Maverick’s damp skin, brushing his tongue over pebbled nipples, chuckling low in his throat when Maverick impatiently pulled him up to his lips. Their tongues tangled and something possessive curled around Maverick’s heart at the taste of himself on Ice’s tongue, moaning in satisfaction at the thought of him leaving here with Maverick on his lips, like some twisted form of a souvenir. 

Ice ground his cock into Maverick’s hip and Maverick widens his legs, allowing Ice to slide right into the cradle of his hips and rut up against his spent cock. 

Ice pulls away with a gasp, pushing away from Maverick to kick his jeans and briefs down the rest of the way and Maverick feels his mouth go dry at the sight of Ice’s cock slapping obscenely against his stomach, a smear of precum behind on his abs. 

Maverick pulls Ice right back to him, his head spinning when he feels the easy glide of Ice’s cock against his and Ice closes his eyes, jaw clenched, muscles twitching and jumping and this time, Maverick doesn't even think, he traces them with his tongue, tasting the salt on skin from sweat and Ice groans. 

“I’m not gonna last,” Ice whispers into his ear, “I want it just like this, want to come all over you,” Ice continues, voice low and dirty and it makes arousal shoot right through Maverick, “fuck Mav, you feel so fucking good against me, shit.”

Maverick reaches between them and grips Ice roughly in hand, squeezing him, brushing his thumb against the head and Ice throws his head back and a guttural sound leaves his lips and his hips rut into Maverick’s hand, fucking his fist and the sight has Maverick getting hard again. 

“That’s it, Ice,” Maverick mutters breathlessly, “come for me, want to see it, feel it on my skin—“

“Fuck, Mav,” Ice breathes, hips stuttering and Maverick brushes his lips against his jaw, biting the twitching muscles and Ice comes, hot and wet, all over Maverick’s stomach, his cock twitching a few times before Ice collapses on top of Maverick in a breathless heap.

They lay there, panting and gasping for a few minutes, trying to pull themselves back together and Maverick finds himself running his hands over the contours of Ice’s back and Ice relaxes, brushing a kiss against Maverick’s neck, before he settles with a hum.

The record had stopped playing long ago and they lay there in the silence and for the first time in a long time, Maverick feels content and satiated, and it settles in his skin and wraps around him like a blanket. 

Ice stirs first, leaning up on his elbow and glances down at Maverick with a smile, a genuine one, eyes soft and relaxed, all the hard and cool edges smoothed out and it’s just as beautiful as Maverick thought it would be.

He runs a finger down Maverick’s sternum, toying with his dog-tags and Maverick shivers at the sensation, watching him with curious eyes, a question on tip of his tongue, but Ice beats him to it. 

“When did you know?” He asks, voice soft, probing and he looks at Maverick, curiosity shining in those hazel depths and Maverick knows what he’s asking without needing any sort of elaboration. 

Maverick feels a smile dance on his lips, a breathless laugh leaving his throat and he wonders if Ice can hear the fondness in it like he can, “I don't know if you’ve noticed, Kazansky,” Maverick murmurs, brushing a hand under his jaw, thumb brushing over his soft and swollen lips, “but you’ve got a bit of an oral fixation that’s _very_ distracting.”

Ice blushes and it’s the prettiest thing Maverick has ever seen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They eat cold stir fry and shower together, which leads to round two and then round three when they attempt to dry each other off and Ice takes him on his back, hazel eyes dark and full of heat and desire and they fall asleep like that, bodies intertwined. 

Ice wakes Maverick when he leaves in the morning, which almost leads to round four if Maverick didn’t see the time and rush to head into the shower, Ice’s warm laughter following him into the bathroom. 

In class that day, Maverick can’t help but watch Ice twirl his pen over his knuckles as he listens to Jester’s lecture. And when he brings that pen to his lips, he shoots Maverick a knowing grin, white teeth gleaming around the gold of the pen and it takes Maverick back to the week prior and he grins to himself, because now he doesn't have to wonder what those lips would feel like when they wrap around him.

He already knows. 

And if he pushes Ice against the shower wall when everyone leaves the lockeroom and takes him into his mouth and edges him until Ice his practically on his knees and begging as punishment, well. 

No one’s asking and Maverick is definitely _not_ telling.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think :)


End file.
